


Lockpicking 101

by chii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bromance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York measures intelligence in people the same way someone measures intelligence in someone else based on the email they use or the TV they watch or the books they read, except he measures it based on what they know about locks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lockpicking 101

**Author's Note:**

> Posting all sorts of stuff I've written throughout the year. Genfic, dumb humor, etc. I love Wash/York bromance, that's all.

York measures intelligence in people the same way someone measures intelligence in someone else based on the email they use or the TV they watch or the books they read, except he measures it based on what they know about locks.

They get a new recruit in March-- skinny, weedy, nervous little dude named John or Jim or something, but codenamed Virginia. He's too twitchy to do anything, but York gets he's good at intelligence, good at gathering data and so he can't blame them for picking him, but when he gets told that Virginia is going on-mission with him, he gives the Director the most dubious look he possibly can from behind his helmet.

Ah, crap, he thinks.

“Should be fun, sir,” he says, all sugar and sweetness, turning with a salute and heading on out.

This is gonna suck.

 

 

“This sucks, Virginia. Do you know why this sucks?” York calls over TEAMCOM, hearing gunfire to his right and firing in response.

Virginia, blessedly, recognizes that it's not something that really needs answered and tosses a grenade over the wall with an audible sigh.

 

 

The end of the mission finds York pressing a stack of papers into the man's chest, shaking his head. “Here, dude. Field manual. This explains exactly why we do not shoot the H8000-B lock, okay?”

To his credit, Virginia looks suitably cowed, and York makes his way back to the meeting room with Carolina with the most defeated of sighs, doing it all over again when Carolina doesn't even look up from her stack of papers.

“I said--” York leans in, and sighs, loud and dramatic, and throws his hands up for good measure, but the only response he gets is a raised eyebrow.

“Someone shoot the lock again?” she asks, and really, he cannot understand why she doesn't get as frustrated as he does. “You can't expect everyone to read the field manual, York. The ones who don't do what they gotta just wash out, you know that.”

“Carolina. Bosslady. Sweetheart.” He says the last one just for the glare and gives her the brightest of smiles in response, leaning in. “You do not-- do not shoot the H8000-B lock, okay? That thing is the most beautiful lock in the history of goddamn glorious locks and you don't. Shoot it. That's like-- that's like taking a vase-- like this million dollar vase and pissing in it, okay, you just don't do that, unless you're--”

“Virginia. Or Maine. Or Oregon. Or South.”

York visibly deflates, dragging his hands over his face. “South punched it.”

“Hn.”

He gives her a despairing look, and realizes she's not going to do anything about it, and just shakes his head in response with the most pathetic little noise he can possibly muster, off to find someone who can properly appreciate the pain of people mistreating locks.

 

Washington seems like a nice enough guy, York has to say-- he doesn't dislike any of them, but he doesn't really know this one yet, and for some reason the Director seemed to get his rocks off on sticking him and Carolina with the newbies. Not entirely bad, but York feels a little piece of himself kind of die when he sees the first set of doors.

It's an encrypted first set of locks, sure, but it's a hybrid and York has to hold himself back from reaching out and just saying “please do not shoot it, for the love of god.”

Wash doesn't, though, he just sweeps the room and then looks to York, content not to push ahead stupidly or shoot right now.

“...Sooo,” York drawls, already getting his way through this one, pleased, not surprised when the secondary one pops up, bracing himself for Wash to get impatient and shoot it. “Don't suppose you know the number one thing you're not supposed to do right now.”

Wash is silent for a moment and York keeps fiddling with it, a series of beeps erupting from the machine as he works.

“Not to shoot it or let anything come into contact with it until the primary and secondary parts were disabled or it goes off,” he says slowly, glancing down at him when he realizes that York is just staring. “What?”

The lock clicks open with the sweetest little noise and York just pats the door affectionately, clasping Wash's shoulder firmly. “Sayin' this in the least homoerotic way possible, Wash, but I kinda love you right now.” He doesn’t know if they got a newbie who just knows his way around locks (which is what he hopes for) or if he just read the manual, but it’s just nice all around to have that there, to know they got someone who knows their ass from a hole in the ground.

 

 

 

They make it through the mission easy as pie and York watches the numbers tack onto his name with this pleased little grin, bumping Carolina's shoulder as he walks past her, pleased as punch, really. Wash's name gets a bump too, and he goes off to find him after he sees it, not surprised to find him punching a punching bag, sweat soaking through his shirt.

“Hey, newbie,” he calls, watching the man turn and raise his eyebrows. “C'mon. We're going out. Drinks are on me.”

 

 

“I uh. You ought to know I really only read the field guide,” Wash confesses over a beer that night, and York just shakes his head, pushing a fresh bottle over to him.

“Shh, dude, don't ruin it for me, okay. It's like telling a kid on Christmas that Santa is just your uncle in some godawful suit. Lemme enjoy this. Lemme bask.”

Wash thinks he's pretty goddamn weird and doesn't get what there is to bask in besides the fact that he read the manual, but York looks pretty okay just surveying the dingy old bar and he has to admit that it isn't so bad out here. When York bumps his shoulder playfully, he hides his smile in the rim of the bottle.


End file.
